


Healing Time and Social Graces

by nonky



Series: The Amazing Amnesiacs of New York [2]
Category: Blindspot (TV)
Genre: Gen, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-09-18 20:53:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9402482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonky/pseuds/nonky
Summary: Kurt was trying to be as welcoming as he could, but he was also Roman's jailer. He couldn't even give the guy a television so they could talk sports. Their common ground seemed to be both of them getting shot often.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A slightly silly piece inspired by this: http://kate-dammit-run.tumblr.com/post/156136577265

"Ms. Doe, we'll do the inspection now, please," an agent called, hovering politely in the doorway. He was one of the guards in holding, and he often got assigned to Roman. 

Jane looked over her shoulder as she walked out of the interview room. She had wanted to look at the NSA files with Roman and Weller. They were trying to combine their smaller observations to get at some tangible facts. The tattoos would still lead places, but two sets of potentially unlocked memories might connect things better.

Kurt was also the only agent really at ease in a room with the two of them. He dismissed Roman's guards and left her brother free to work. Even without results, Jane was delighted to see a functional way he could be more than a prisoner.

"I'm sorry about this. I got you some new stuff for your bed, and they want to check through it for contraband, or whatever," she said quickly. "I guess it needs to be before you can go back in your room. I'll be quick."

"We'll be fine," Kurt told her. He didn't like Roman's total confinement, and he was willing to bend rules to make it easier. He put down his pen, content to wait until she returned to keep working. 

Across the table, Roman was idly looking through satellite images of his old home. The Sandstorm base was leveled, and they didn't find much to work with in the rubble. Still, it had been home. 

"We might go out there one day," Kurt told Roman. "I think you and Jane walking the grounds could trigger a lot. She was pretty sure you'd lived there a couple years. I think she was mostly living with Oscar, but being there together is at least some fresh air for you."

The reply took longer than it should, Roman's eyes moving slowly off the picture and up to Kurt. He finally nodded, giving that laconic blankness a glimmer of interaction. "She likes long drives," he said, obviously referring to his sister. "Well, she likes it when she doesn't have to do the driving, and when no one is chasing her."

"It should be a pretty relaxing day, no car chases."

"The whole house is gone," Roman asked. 

"It's unstable. No one can go in. We have a few people doing imaging to see if digging down will get us anything useful, but then we'll have to knock it down," he said. 

It was hard to tell if the loss of the place was a sore topic. Kurt changed the subject just in case. He knew now what it was like when people called him close-mouthed, because his best efforts at small talk failed with Jane's brother. They should have a bit in common through her, or the work. 

The minefield of setting off trauma made it hard to just talk. Kurt was trying to be as welcoming as he could, but he was also Roman's jailer. He couldn't even give the guy a television so they could talk sports.

"How are you feeling lately," he asked. "Is your bullet wound healing well?"

"It's okay, you guys have good docs," Roman said evenly. "I don't know how I know that, but - How's your gunshot bruise?"

Their common ground seemed to be both of them getting shot often. Weller wasn't sure it was polite, but at least they weren't staring each other down. 

"It hurts a bit, but no worse than my heartburn when I eat at the cafeteria. Next time we could use blanks. I'm a pretty good actor when it keeps me from getting shot," he said ironically.

Roman's head tilted and he blinked consideringly. "I'm supposed to be a bad liar. Remi says I was known for it. I'm not sure how I'm supposed to remember something like that. If I was a good liar, wouldn't I be able to fake myself out and think I'm not?"

Riddles like that were why Kurt didn't want Patterson attempting her own brand of broad intellectual curiousity on Roman and Jane. He understood the need to sort out lost identity, but his job was less philosophical. It felt incredibly presumptuous to say he had any chance of 'solving' people on the basis of their nature. 

"I thought amnesia was something that only happened on soap operas or to old people," he said with a shrug. "I rely on the doctors for information about it. It's not my area."

Recalling the harsh predictions of Roman's psychiatrist, Kurt quickly continued. "But I think you and your sister are special cases. I wouldn't bet against a full recovery for either one of you. I've been told not to call her stubborn, but . . ."

Humour lit the younger man's face for a split second, like the smallest window into his personality. He might be a lot of things, but he loved Jane unconditionally.

"The doctor says I need to try to engage emotionally with people other than Remi," Roman said, his voice plainly disinterested in the exercise. "People don't really tell me all that much. I make them . . . uncomfortable."

The amnesiac terrorist didn't have a soothing air, Kurt thought. Where Jane had been warm and eager to know people, Roman was walled up. He could hold a conversation as long as the other person kept picking up the slack. Even with Jane, he couldn't be said to be a charmer. 

It was also hard to make conversation when everything you knew was either classified or slivers of memory.

"I get that, too," he said sympathetically. "My girlfriends always said I didn't talk enough. It made them feel like I wasn't really interested except, you know, casually."

He had just blundered into a sex talk with Jane's little brother, and he wondered if this had ever happened to poor Jane when Sarah was around. If so, Kurt was going to buy everyone involved flowers. 

"What does she say about you?" Roman's chin tipped out toward the door his sister had just used. 

Kurt gave a well-hidden wince and an ironic chuckle. "You and your sister, even when you don't know anything, you don't miss much. Jane and I - Remi and I - had an attraction. We tried it out for a while, but-"

Roman was flexing through his shoulders and chest, subtly amping up his muscles. Kurt squinted up into the light for an inspiration. 

"Things got in the way and there was too much conflict of interest," he said. "That doesn't mean I don't care about her."

"And you also got another woman pregnant around that same time, right?" Roman's hands came up to the table and folded together, showing off his scarred knuckles. 

"Well, Jane and I weren't officially-"

"You were the one to arrest her, too. Didn't you try asking her about everything first? I know she would have talked to you," Roman said. 

The next time Roman shot him, Kurt was sure it would be off the vest and in a much lower and specific part of his body. "I screwed up that day. I was gutted. I had just found out my father was a murderer. It's not an excuse. Things snarled up so badly it was months before I was thinking clearly." 

He met Roman's eyes squarely. "I've apologized to her, and she's forgiven me. I'm grateful for the second chance. No one touched by Shepherd gets away clean."

The simmer of anger was gone as fast as it had built up, a trait both siblings had shown. Then again, Kurt had nearly strangled a man over Jane's mistreatment. He was glad someone else would be willing to protect her. He'd never yelled as much in his life as the short time he'd known Jane.

"If she forgave you," Roman said noncommittally. "What happened to your father?"

Kurt shifted in his chair. He wasn't going to ever be over losing Taylor twice. 

"He died before any charges were laid. Justice wasn't done, but I'm moving on," he said slowly. 

Roman nodded, his face changing little but giving a sense of sympathy. "At least he can't hurt anyone else."

"Sometimes that's all we get," Kurt agreed. 

They lapsed into an easy silence, both of them waiting on Jane to come back. She walked in with a quizzical expression, letting out an awkward laugh as they looked up.

"That took forever. The pillows weren't approved, but I got you a really nice rug and blanket. That floor is so cold," Jane said sadly. 

"I'm fine," Roman told her immediately, rapping his knuckles companionably on Kurt's arm. "I was just saying the FBI doctors are really good."

She looked between them, bemused. "Were you actually talking this whole time, or were you just sitting here ignoring each other?"

Her apprehension was perfect, and Kurt smiled cheerfully. "We mostly talked about you," he said lightly. "Ah, anyway, that's enough of staring at these files. I'm going to order some food for us. Any favourites?"

Two recently amnesiac people gaped at him, and he nodded. "Right. I'll grab the menus."

"As long as it's not the cafeteria food," Roman joked, his delivery lame but his mouth turned up to a real smile. 

"You only shot me once, Roman," Kurt said, glancing at Jane to see her joy rise and turn to apprehension again. "I wouldn't kill you for that. Have a seat, Jane."

She took his chair and pulled it in, leaning over the table to her brother. "You were talking about me that whole time," she murmured hurriedly. "And now you have in-jokes about killing each other? I was only gone ten minutes."

Kurt smiled to himself as he walked to his office. It was too early to say, but he thought he was going to like Jane's brother.


End file.
